I'm My Own Grandpa
by Dussia
Summary: How four people ended up being their own grandparents: The "behind-the-scenes" of the song.


** I'm my own grandpa**

_I've always loved this song, and was sure that its plot had already been "novelized" properly, that is, not as radically as in Heinlein's "—All You Zombies—." Looks like it wasn't, but even if it had been, it wouldn't have stopped me from writing this stuff down. Spring was in the air, and I just couldn't help it. It's pretty straightforward, and has no pretentions about being 100% authentic – just a tale as it was described in the song. More or less arbitrarily, I put the characters and setting in the ca. 1820s-30s, although I knew that the song was written in 1947. Only afterwards, did I find out that the song was based on a real case that happened in the 1820s._

_To Ardis, who grew up in the sticks – and left._

**ON A TRAIN**

With a long journey ahead of us, we tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and took a separate compartment where each of us could enjoy his or her book in peace and quiet, except for Auntie Ginny, who could devote herself to her knitting. The train had already started to move when the door slid open, and a large carpetbag together with a basket flew into the compartment – with a small woman in their wake. She could be characterized as "of a certain age," but clearly not yet as "elderly," especially after she heaved her bag onto the upper shelf without waiting for Michael, who had already stood up, to help her. She hurled it with one hand. Then she took possession of the only unoccupied seat, put down her basket, carefully straightened her black dress, including the impressive front, took off her black hat, and started to primp her once-blonde hair, fighting with unruly curls. Finally, she put the hat back on, and looked around with a pleased sigh and a broad "All rait!" – of a kind that always had made our teacher crinkle her nose and whisper: "Those hillbillies…" After having surveyed and noticed that none of us was eager to converse, she shrugged and took a small bundle out of her basket – we supposed it was knitting, as well. When she opened it, Auntie, who wasn't taking her eyes away from her needles, made a small strangled squeak: In the bundle, there were two big hunting knives, which now glistened dangerously on the woman's lap. She obviously thought: not dangerously enough, because she immediately started sharpening them on one another. Then she wiped and polished them, and then started sharpening them again, and so on. First, we couldn't concentrate on reading because of her methodical snip-snap, but gradually it mixed harmoniously with the rattling of the train. Milly was already nodding off on my shoulder when suddenly the harmony of sounds was interrupted by a new one: Words of a song flew into the window, probably from the next compartment. It was an old silly song, but no matter how often one heard it, it was impossible not to smile. "I'm my own grandpa…" a male voice was droning on melancholically. "It sounds funny, I know, but it really is so…" followed by a well-known, but still a bit shocking story of someone marrying someone – legally – and indeed becoming his own grandfather.

"It may be funny," said Michael adjusting his glasses, "but I heard – in a drinking establishment, I beg your pardon – that the story is absolutely true and the song was written, incredible as it may seem, about our Governor."

"Pffft," Uncle Ernie put his paper aside, "now that's utter rubbish, Michael. I had the honor to have met both the Governor, and the late Missus Governor… (Uncle Ernie pronounced "Missus Governor" with such pomp that everybody snorted quietly, including the knife lady. Her snort was the loudest.) Oh yes, cultivated, civilized people they were, and not some… woodchucks who'd eat lentils with a boot."

The knife lady laid down her knives on her lap, stretched one foot forward and examined her elegant leather boot as if to check its lentil-carrying capacity. Uncle Ernie stammered a bit:

"Yes, indeed. Such songs – as you should know yourself – have their roots in rural folklore and are based on long-ago events, sometimes much less decent and proper, to go into further explanations here, due to the ladies' presence."

The knife lady tutt-tutted disappointedly.

"But, Uncle, the gentlemen in the tavern were positively sure…"

"Michael! 'The gentlemen in the tavern'! Worse is only: 'I was told it by an old lady I met in…' – I don't know, in Coughpeeksie! In Wollypennie! In New-Overkerk! In a hole in the wall where they know it all, that's for sure!"

"But Ernie, dear," Auntie Ginny suddenly put aside her needles, "isn't Geoff Meredith actually from Wollypennie? I always thought…"

"She always thought!" Uncle Ernie rolled his eyes. "The Governor is from the Old Country, everybody knows that!"

The sudden Britishness of our Governor lightened our moods considerably. Uncle Ernie quietly sat through Milly's attempts to mimic the noble English accent, and just shook his head:

"It's true, and you should be ashamed to revel in your ignorance like this."

To our astonishment, the knife lady nodded in agreement:

"That's rait. As true as the Governor being his own grandpa."

We stopped and looked at her, and she returned our glances in surprise:

"You're looking at me as if waiting for some explanations. What is that for? To be able to say later: 'I was told that by an old hag I met on a train to Wollypennie?'" she snorted derisively in Uncle Ernie's direction.

"Madam," he stumbled, "I most certainly didn't mean you at all, and moreover, I'll be very obliged if you could confirm to these ignoramuses that the Governor is indeed from the Old Country."

"From Wales, to be precise…"

**BOBKITTY**

His parents were both Welsh: She was well educated and all that, but ran away with a poor boy. That one was dreaming to grow sheep, but had to work for other folks, and then they had the baby – Geoffrey, that is. Then followed the hunger, then the cholera – well, she was well mannered, and lovely, and nice, but a bit too weak and sickly for the times, so she died with their second one on the way. The lad – Jacob Meredith – took his son and ran away from all that – as far as over the ocean. Back than, Wollypennie was hardly more than just a name, and the land around it was cheaper than cheap. The best was already taken – my father was trying to grow wheat and oats, for example, which went on pretty well. Meredith bought the worst, unplantable kind of land on the hills, almost for nothing. He was still obsessing about his sheep, and managed to get a couple with the last of his money. Then he got some more – and after a year or so he had something you could call a flock. People kept wondering – and immediately started gossiping about him, 'cuz he was a stand-offish fellow, black-eyed, long-nosed, almost like an Injun – he even wore his hair like one. To make it worse, he cussed like a cobbler – nobody understood half of his cussing, but that made it sound even meaner. He could use his fists quite effectively, too, never without a cause, but people generally preferred to go around him – just in case. A stranger, who knows what he's doing with his sheep up there that they multiply like rabbits, and none has died yet.

He started building a house, but it took long, because he spent most of his time on the pastures. He always took his son with him, till one winter the boy got terrible sick – with fever and such. Meredith had no choice but to take him to his nearest neighbors. Robin Brooks was just a decent farmer, but his wife was considered to be a "wise woman" – back then such women had to play both midwife and doctor in holes like ours. Meredith didn't like her much, and she him neither: Mostly, because of his cussing, but also out of general mistrust. Nobody knew for sure why he had left England, there were different rumors. He in his turn thought that calling her "wise" was more than ridiculous. Back then, she was no more than eighteen: A wet chick like that had no right to tell people how to treat their ailments and how to behave.

However, it was clear that he couldn't help Geoffrey himself. He had lost his wife already – to save his son, he was ready even to bow down to Marion Brooks. She understood the situation at once, grabbed the boy and sent Meredith away to his sheep – to return after a week. One week turned into three, but finally, she managed to bring the boy back to health. After which she told Meredith that Geoffrey shouldn't go back to the pastures at this time of year. How about he'd stay here on the farm? She'd keep an eye on him, and he'd keep an eye on Bobkitty. Her Robin wouldn't mind either: The boy's so nice; he'd help him with the farm, too. And they don't need any payment from Meredith for that – it's for everybody's good.

Meredith agreed – he didn't want another story like this. He said that he'd be dropping by and that he'd pick the boy up in spring – there is much work then on the pastures, he'd need a helping hand.

That's how it started: Geoffrey was helping his father either on the pastures, or to build the house, but he mostly lived at the Brookses'. He was smart beyond his age, quiet, but firm, and even then you could say: Here goes a future broad-shouldered Mr. Handsome. "What a nice match he'll be for Bobkitty," Marion Brooks used to think to herself once in a while. But when she shared this thought with her husband, he laughed and said: "God save him, Marion, such a good fellow, and you want to ruin his life like this." Marion pouted: She loved her daughter in spite of everything, and she knew that Robin adored her, too. Then why was he so impartial? But Robin knew better: "Geoffrey has had enough of Bobkitty already, no dowry would sway him, you'll see."

Bobkitty was the Brookses' first child. She looked like an angel – blonde, with huge eyes of blue, but that was the end of the angelic part already. After Bobkitty, it took Marion almost five years to get herself together and have another child: She had been afraid that she'd never be able to cope with another monstrosity like that. Then came Peter, and after another couple of years they had John: Both were wonderful, well-behaved boys, probably not without Geoffrey's good influence, because he fussed about them right from their birth. Not even he could fuss about Bobkitty.

Bobkitty was one of those kids who, once they started to crawl, are not going to stop, unless they fall asleep. They even eat on the go. In a couple of minutes she could: pounce on you from the wardrobe with a war cry, break Ma's favorite dish, draw at Pa's pipe, gobble jam out of a jar, round it up with a pickle, put the rest of the pickles into the jar and bury the jar under the porch, finishing her meal with a worm she'd dug up from under the same porch. Then she'd shred the Sunday dress while having a ride on a pig, find a mouse to show to Ma (Marion was delightfully afraid of mice), try to brush the Cat's teeth again and, after the Cat's predictable reaction, yell like a madman, using all the indecent words she happened to know. How those words came into her possession was a mystery, because nobody swore at her home. Whenever asked, the child would give a stubborn reply: "That's what they said in Church." Marion was despairing, until she finally figured out that Bobkitty was confusing the church with the saloon to which she, as it turned out, had been eloping periodically, because "Bobsy there got puppies, and I helped her get them out, and may I have these two, thank you." Strangely, she then took a good care of the pups, feeding them and teaching them good manners, but still – the combination of Bobkitty and her pair of unstoppably chewing and munching mutts often made Marion wish she could crawl and hide somewhere safe and smell-proof.

Geoffrey helped her as well as he could: He was taking Robin's shotgun from Bobkitty just in time, he was washing her hands covered in mixture of muck and tar, he shooed the dogs from the house, and was holding her mouth shut when something abominable was going to come out of it. No wonder he went around bitten, scratched, and filthy.

From her earliest childhood on, Robin had been taking Bobkitty to the fields, binding her to some sort of a leash he constructed himself, but after a time, he got tired of pulling her out of a gulch or taking her off a rock she'd still managed to climb on in spite of the leash. When she was two, she caught a snake and killed it, biting in its neck like a mongoose – that was why Robin started calling her Bobkitty. When she was four, she once was barking at a couple of coyotes as long as it took her father to run up with a gun. When she was five, she learned how to shoot and never went out of the house without a shotgun and a pair of knives tucked into her belt. All domestic animals hid in her presence, except for her dogs who followed her wherever she went.

Once, in the early spring, Jacob Meredith dropped by his neighbors, taking with him two rounds of cheese wrapped in a blanket. Geoffrey didn't tell much about his life with the Brookses, but had asked him a couple of times how to take a knife off a person and to immobilize this person afterwards without hurting her. That made Meredith think that farm life could have unknown darker sides, and the Brookses might need some support.

As Meredith neared the house, he saw how the whole family, including Geoffrey, was gathered under a huge tree, trying to coax Bobkitty to come down from its top. She had been sitting there like a cat since the early morning, refusing to come down, and assuring everybody that it felt just right and that if she needed to, she could always just pee down – honestly, not on someone's head. The Brookses had been so relieved to have a break from her that they indeed happily forgot about her for a couple of hours. There were plenty of other things to do at the farm anyway. Later they started feeling remorseful, and Robin dragged over the biggest ladder, climbed as high as possible, and was now trying to cast a rope to Bobkitty. The rope wouldn't cast.

"Who have you got there?" enquired Meredith from his son.

"Bobkitty," sniffed the latter.

"Why don't you shake the *** tree, and let it fall down?"

"But she'll smash up!"

"Why? It'll land on all fours, like it's supposed to."

For a couple of seconds, everybody was seriously contemplating this suggestion, until Marion came to her senses:

"Jacob Meredith! That's not a cat! That's my daughter up there!"

"Then why is she meowing?"

"Because she's Bobkitty," Marion and Geoffrey sighed simultaneously.

"Is that the – the kid that broke my fence?" recalled Meredith, making a tiny pause before "kid," which made Marion frown.

"Uncle Robin and me've repaired it already," reminded Geoffrey.

"Meow! Meow!" Bobkitty was clearly enjoying being the center of general concern, and her wailings grew stronger. Her worried dogs answered from below.

"Stretch out the blanket and let her jump into it," was Meredith's next suggestion.

"I won't jump into no *** blanket, jump into your *** blanket yourselves! Meow! Meow!" came from above.

"Elsie Brooks! I'm climbing up there right now and soaping your wretched mouth! And then I'll climb down and leave you up there alone!" roared red-faced Marion.

"See, Sonny, people who don't use language have much more devilish minds instead," Meredith said in a half voice. Geoffrey, who had become very loyal towards Marion, wanted to say something in her defense, but in that very moment, the branch holding Bobkitty started to decline and crackled dangerously.

"Robin, get down that *** ladder, Missus Marion, Geoffrey, stretch it out." With these words, Meredith threw the cheeses out of the blanket. Together with Robin, they hastily stretched the blanket under the tree – and then froze on the spot, watching incredulously as Bobkitty, who had finally gotten really scared, swiftly turned around and climbed down the breaking branch head first like a monkey. A couple of seconds, a rustle of branches – and here she was, standing under the tree, straightening her dress and pigtails, patting the delighted dogs and looking triumphantly at the whole company still holding the blanket.

"Told ya I wouldn't jump into your *** blanket."

Meredith was the first to regain the power of speech.

"I wonder," he addressed the Brookses, trying to sound as worldly as he could, "has anyone ever spanked her?"

"In my house," said Marion emphatically, "there will be no child-beating. Ever."

"'Cuz the price'll be too high," muttered Robin and coughed embarrassedly. Geoffrey nodded:

"I slapped her a couple of times," he demonstrated where, a bit abashed. "I didn't know I shouldn't. See my hair here – it's shorter, 'cuz it's singed."

Meredith gave Bobkitty an appraising look. She retorted with an equally murderous glance, and started to clean dirt from under her fingernails. Meredith then examined the tree again as if calculating something, folded his blanket, picked up the cheeses, and handed them to Marion.

"You take that. I've actually come to pick up Geoffrey. He's needed on the pasture."

That made the Brookses sad. Even Bobkitty made a face, but a rather envious one. Meredith looked at her again.

"Can you shoot?" he asked sternly. Bobkitty nodded reluctantly.

"How 'bout making a fire?"

She nodded again.

"Cooking porridge?"

She wrinkled her nose. Marion frowned suspiciously.

"I've already taught Geoffrey everything," explained Meredith. "He can manage there alone, if needed. So, I could take this one instead," he nodded in Bobkitty's direction. "I guess she's not a big eater, and there'll be no time for shenanigans there anyway."

"Can I take my dogs with me?" asked Bobkitty. "They're well-bred."

Meredith shrugged – why not?

Robin and Geoffrey looked at each other with hidden joy. As much as Robin loved his daughter, he realized at once that she'd be much better off up there. In fact, Bobkitty wasn't a lazybones on the farm: She executed all of her small assignments with precision, but she always managed to engineer something in between them. And up there, on the pastures, there were simply no opportunities for monkeyshines, or so Robin hoped. That left only Marion, but she was not devoid of commonsense either.

"I'll let her go with you, Jacob Meredith, but on one condition. You'll give me a solemn promise that you'll never hurt her."

Meredith shrugged again:

"Seems to be useless anyway–" As Marion was waiting, he said. "All roit, I swear, 'scuse me, I promise not to lay a finger on her."

Leaping ahead, I must admit that he never broke his promise, mostly keeping in mind Robin's words.

**ROBIN**

You could ask why Meredith was going to all the trouble with the girl – did he actually want to lend the Brookses a hand? Certainly not! Meredith never used ready-made ideas in his thinking, like 'a little child = somebody to care for.' For him, every person was first of all what this person was capable of. And Bobkitty was quite a capable person. Her ability to climb into most unusual spots would save him more than one sheep in the future. Or that stubborn perseverance which enabled her to sit still and uncomfortably for many hours – an indispensable trait in the wilderness. A person like that was not to be wasted.

Bobkitty's talents were indeed not wasted on the pastures. Meredith loaded her with Important Tasks around the clock, so that she had neither the time, nor the mood, to fool around. She was looking after the sheep, she learned how to milk and to shear them, could make a fire from one match or even without, could make food out of anything including peat (peat cooked with sugar was quite yummy), tried peeing while standing (on her own initiative), plucked birds, skinned rabbits and any other kind of edible critters. She came back tanned and grown and behaved herself for a couple of days, but then relapsed again – there were too many things around the farm to stimulate her creativity. Still, her escapades were getting less destructive and brainless. While she was away, Marion and Robin relaxed to such an extent that she had to help nursing little Peter after less than a year. There was little time for tomfoolery on the farm anymore, except for drawing the moustache on the sleeping baby and such like, so she relocated it to Wollypennie where she managed to run off to once in a while.

Next year, Meredith took her to the pastures earlier, when the sheep just started to lamb. The spring was late, and they had to keep a good eye on the lambs. On the highest pastures, where it was especially cold, they had to sleep back to back, each with a lamb under arm. The summer turned hot, and they often would leave the sheep with the dogs and go either to the woods or to the streams where they tried to search for gold. They succeeded to pan out a bit only next summer – for the first and the last time. Meredith was able to finish his house, and Robin bought some more cows and many fixings for the farm. Bobkitty was disappointed: She'd rather spend the gold for something more interesting. "Always those cows," she grumbled. "Cows are nothing," echoed Meredith, "'specially compared with what we've got at our place…" He even closed his eyes as if in bliss. "Well, what's that at your place?" "Plumbing," said Meredith proudly, "with a *** cesspool. By ***, not even Her Majesty has such a cesspool, I'll wager. That's not some *** outhouse in the yard." "Nonsense!" Bobkitty objected. "See these fields? And farther – up to those hills on the horizon? If I have it all at my disposal, why should I care about your *** plumbing?" Meredith was impressed by this argument. "And what 'bout in winter? You'll freeze off whatever in your fields…" "What 'whatever?' That's your folks' concern, I don't have nothing to freeze off," she said, sticking out her tongue.

Geoffrey approved of the plumbing, though he silently decided that the English Queen may live as she wants, but if Marion is happy with the outhouse, then it'll do for him, too. Everything Marion did was good, and everything she said was right. As he grew, Geoffrey learned to assess the world more and more critically, but he always tended to make allowances for Marion. He realized, of course, that she was just a young woman who often acted by trial and error, but couldn't help admiring the self-confidence and grace with which she hammered the necessity of hand-washing, teeth-brushing, abstinence, and other such nonsense into the heads of Wollypennie dwellers. The first and foremost thing he learned from Marion – and learned quite naturally: A simple smile could break the walls of human stubbornness. "Keep your teeth clean and smile. If you smile to them, they'll love you." "Who 'they?'" wondered Geoffrey, looking at the empty hills and fields. "I have no idea. But they'll come. Just you smile and soldier on. Listen to Old Marion and keep it in mind." Geoffrey built all his life according to this main principle and never regretted it.

However, neither smiles, nor persistence worked in some cases. For years and years, Marion had been nagging Robin about his perpetual pipe, but all in vain. He simply couldn't understand why she was pestering him: All of the Brookses smoked since almost their birth up to their death, and were even put into their coffins with their favorite pipes. And all of them who didn't die early lived very long, so don't you worry. Even after he started to cough regularly, he secretly spat out all the bitter potions she immediately rushed to force-feed him, and he never stopped smoking. With time, his coughing got worse, sometimes he couldn't breathe properly – which he carefully concealed from the others. Finally, Marion left the three-year-old Peter with Geoffrey and Bobkitty, took Baby John with her, and brought Robin to a Big City doctor of medicine. The latter lifted his hands and said that if Robin quit smoking, he had a fair chance to live out till the coming fall. To Marion's greatest outrage, he didn't even prescribe anything. "That's one wretched quack, he is! And you…" she loomed over the resigned Robin, "put that 'live out till fall' out of your mind! You're going to live unless I tell you otherwise. Just you try leaving me like that, Robin Brooks. I didn't walk three miles to your farm when my aunt forbade us to see each other so that you could now leave me in the middle of the road! And you can smoke as much as you like!"

This last stab in the doctor's back shook Robin to such an extent that, after coming back from the city, he immediately buried his pipe in the garden and never smoked again till the end of his days. The doctor miscalculated about the fall, but when the next spring – Bobkitty was twelve – she and Meredith were finally having a rest after a difficult lambing of one ewe and a long struggle with another who refused both to be milked and to nurse, preferring to climb onto a huge piece of rock and smell the fresh spring wind expecting some unknown adventures ("I was right in naming her Elsie," thought Meredith.)… Anyway, having finally made themselves comfortable next to the fire, both felt a heavy meaningful silence that was killing any conversation attempts. They both didn't mind keeping quiet for a while, but today's silence was too oppressive even for Meredith. Usually, one cue from him was enough to launch Bobkitty into an endless chit-chat – he never listened properly. When her topics dried out, she would start singing huskily – which lulled him even better. But nothing would make her talk today, and Meredith didn't want to touch the main subject.

"By the way, do keep your *** fellows away from Lady Willikins." Lady W. was his best shepherd dog. Usually, her dangerous period fell on the time when Bobkitty's dogs were still on the farm, but this year she was lagging behind.

"And how am I going to hold 'em?" snorted Bobkitty. Then she shrugged and pointed out philosophically. "It's spring-time. Let 'em enjoy life."

"Very well, but you'll be drowning the pups yourself."

"Why drown and not sell them? You're selling the purebreds, right?"

"That's so. And who'll need mongrels?"

"Everyone. That is, if Geoffrey will be the seller. Then they'll go like hot cakes. Guess you don't know, but since Pa started sending him to the market alone, he comes back at noon already, that's how fast he sells everything. Mrs. Lund says that once he smiles, one wants to buy his entire stock off him, no matter what's on it. And Ma says, he's a natural, and she just wonders where it comes from."

Meredith nodded.

"Geoffrey's a good lad," he looked at Bobkitty meaningfully, and she recognized that meaning: Marion used to give her the same look while mentioning Geoffrey, just in a dreamier fashion. She shook her head.

"Nope, Geoffrey's too nice for me. That's bad."

"Better not look for scoundrels just because they're more interesting, kiddo."

"That's not the point. And it's not that he's a bore. He's just so nice that he'll always manage to break me. I'll cuss, I'll walk on my head, I'll smash dishes around – and he'll be just smiling and pressing on until I'll run out of air. I've never in my life listened to anyone, and I'm not going to, ever. That's why I'd rather keep away from Geoffrey, see?"

"Who'd have thought that you're scared of something?"

Bobkitty shrugged.

"Only fools are 'fraid of nothing."

"Is this your mum's saying?"

"No, that's Pa's."

They fell into silence again, but then it was Bobkitty who wanted to break it.

"Jacob, tell me about Geoffrey's ma."

He gave a surprised cough.

"Pleease. Was she also pretty? Like Geoffrey?"

He nodded.

"And was she also nice? Like Geoffrey?"

He nodded.

"And was she smart? Like…"

"Cleverer than even your school teacher."

"No kidding? Our teacher was terrible smart. He even knew, what's that, Latin. How could such a smart person run away from a *** bear, I just don't get it."

"You climbed on a tree yourself. Good that the bear was too heavy for it."

"I just climbed on a tree – and, all right, I screamed a bit, so what?" ("Quite a bit, considering the bear's reaction," thought Meredith.) "And the teacher? Ran off to the city, all because of one bear."

"They say the bear was the last drop. You people did the rest."

"I don't know nothing 'bout that. But who needs Latin against the bear? And by the way, Ma is still smarter than that teacher, with no Latin at all."

"Yes," Meredith pondered, "now, your mum reminds me of her most."

"Of who?"

"Of Rose," he kept looking into the dark sky. "She looked as smart as your mum… and was as tall, although a bit skinnier… And educated – Rose always knew how to behave and to bear herself. On the other hand, Rose was probably so tired of all that education and manners that she used to laugh at every joke I made or word I said, the coarser the better. Never was embarrassed of me," he was quiet for a while. "I keep forgetting to bring you those books of hers – took them with me as a keepsake back then. Me and Geoffrey finished them already anyway. Much of it is rubbish – just made-up stories, but some are clever, like Geography or Astronomy, you could use them now that the school is no more."

That made Bobkitty terminally desolate.

"When am I supposed to learn? And soon there'll be no time for it at all."

"You'll manage."

"We'll have no choice." She made a cautious pause. "Jacob… You are, let's say, a practical person – could you imagine… I mean, afterwards, after some time… that you and Ma, you know… Now, that you're saying that they're alike…" she felt quite embarrassed.

Meredith shook his head.

"Me and Marion? Never. Even forgetting that she can't stand me," here Bobkitty made a disbelieving face, "she'd immediately start teaching me better ways – and in such a case I couldn't vouch for myself. Besides, your mum is a wonderful lady exetera. But Rose was Rose. Marion could never become a second one like her. That's nothing to talk about."

Bobkitty sighed.

"You'll manage without me all right. I won't take neither you, nor Geoffrey to the pastures for a while. And you'll tighten the belt in a bit, and hire a hand or two. Then maybe Marion's Auntie will bite the dust, and leave you something, who knows."

"That old hag? She says she's signed everything over to the church already."

"How 'bout you send Geoffrey to her then?" snorted Meredith. "If he's so charming, maybe he'll win her over, too? Let him tell her how churchy you've become, and she'll mellow – but you yourself should keep away from her, naturally."

"Too late, she knows me already. When Mr. Clam opened his dye-house, I repainted her kitty a bit. One had to try out the dye!"

"Shucks, Elsie, you're no good. Although now he can argue that Marion has been punished enough with you already."

Lulled by the happy memories about the indigo kitty, Bobkitty began to drowse. Meredith went to check the sheep, and made sure that the dogs were keeping watch – looking suspiciously content. After he came back, Bobkitty was fast asleep, snoring and sometimes muttering "Go to hell" to shoo the invisible blue bears away. He banked the fire and lay down himself.

He woke up after a couple of hours – Bobkitty was shaking his shoulder.

"I have to go home, Jacob, I can feel it. I'll go by myself, you stay here."

"Quite so, ***," grumbled Meredith getting up. "As if I'd let you ride alone."

He brought the horses, ignoring her objections. Her dogs were at her feet right away. Thankfully they were small enough to be taken with her. They rode very fast, but for her it seemed like forever, and a part of her wished that this forever would stretch some more.

At their fence, Meredith turned back.

"I'll drop by as soon as I can."

She just nodded and rode to the house.

Her brothers were sleeping. Marion and Geoffrey sat by Robin's bed. He breathed heavily, but brightened up and tried to sit up when she came in.

"I knew you'd come, Bobkitty," he said, "and look at those, they're here again." The dogs slipped quietly after Bobkitty, and crawled to lie down at Marion's feet. The latter just winced without looking at them. Bobkitty plopped down next to them, her hands on the blanket.

Suddenly, Geoffrey felt out of place. He started to raise himself, but Robin sat him back with a light gesture.

"Remember what I told you, Geoff?"

Geoffrey just nodded.

"That's it then. Marion—," but he said no more – there was no need to.

They kept watch over Robin all through the night, remembering it was supposed to be so. At the same time, they were expecting some signal from Marion who, as a birth expert, knew everything about the other side of the deal. But Marion just sat there without moving as if she'd gone some place far away.

In the morning, Geoffrey, whom Marion had often taken with her on similar sad occasions, took command: What to do, whom to inform, when to feed the kids – Elsie assisted with the efficiency of an automaton. In the evening, Meredith dropped by as he'd promised. Geoffrey escorted him to Marion who hadn't changed her position since the last night. Meredith squatted next to her and tried to catch her glance.

"Kids," he said quietly. "Elsie. Peter. John. The farm. Your cow is due to calve any minute, by the way."

Marion flinched.

"That's not possible."

"The white one? I came by the barn. If not, then she's got the Bloat."

"Missey? You know what, Jacob Meredith? Maybe you're a sheep expert, but leave my cows to me! Missey's just shaped like this. Always ate like a bull. As Robin used to say—" She bit her lip, and Meredith tensed, expecting a flood of tears. But Marion would rather implode than cry in his and, especially, in Geoffrey's presence. The latter had just come back.

"Rait," she said. "Sorry about that. And thanks for dropping by. I'll manage from here. Elsie'd be a help, but you can certainly take Geoffrey with you." Geoffrey started like a hurt dog. "If you must. And if he wants."

Meredith stood up, came up to Geoffrey and patted him on the shoulder, incidentally noticing that his son had outgrown him already.

"I've got a small task for you, Sonny," he said quietly. "Don't worry, not right now. And it won't keep you long from the farm, I assume. You'll like it."

**GEOFFREY**

Meredith liked his way of living. He liked the hills and shepherding, he understood his sheep and wasn't afraid of hard work. The thing that didn't please him was the purchase prices for wool and meat. He also didn't think much of the wholesale grain prices offered to Robin. For several years, he had been studying the complex and largely chaotic system of dealers and middlemen and finally figured out a couple of ways to go around it. All of them could be only tried out in the Big City where he now wanted to send Geoffrey. His son was initially quite taken aback by his ideas.

"There's no place for me there," explained Meredith. "The moment I open my mouth, half of the people don't understand me, and another half thinks I'm cussing. I can't see why, but it is so. But you can talk like a local, and you can talk smoothly. They'll swallow and sign everything: Just you smile and harp on. And don't be afraid, you're a frightful person: Even Elsie is scared of you, upon my word. And you'll be able to learn a lot in the city, just keep your eyes and ears open, and never go a-borrowing."

At first, the city considered Geoffrey to be easy prey. He didn't try to dissuade it, just smiled and pressed for his own goals. In the end, he found the right retailers, negotiated acceptable prices, and solved tricky delivery problems. He met a lot of interesting people, keeping in mind those who had tried to fool him, and making a good impression upon the rest. In between, he managed to explore the city, visiting county fairs, factories, and what not. As far as I know, he made closer acquaintance with womenfolk there, too, but he didn't talk much about this part of his adventures.

After he came back, he persuaded Marion not only to hire a couple of workers, but also to invest her remaining savings in a more-modern farm equipment – which was pretty unusual in those days and parts, but paid itself out with time. There was still plenty of work on the farm, even with the help of Georgia runaways Molly and Mike, and then came a new trouble filling Wollypennie with steam and smoke.

Now, the steam engine is a great thing in itself. If only the people who decided where to lay the tracks were always as decent as their machine! Initially, they wanted to put the railroad through Marion's fields, and honestly offered her to purchase them – for almost nothing, as it was common in that whole unholy "eminent domain" business. After Marion politely sent them to hell, they warned her, equally politely, that they'll use different arguments next time. We'd already heard what that could mean, and, when the small gang of raiders entered Marion's property, they were met with precision fire. No "shoot to kill" (About which Meredith had to remind Elsie several times), but to maim sufficiently, so that after a short while the raiders hurried to get away, being sure that a squad of soldiers was ambushing them from the hills. Could be that a sheriff's hat that Elsie once had filched for a bet and now put on a stick played its role – one can't be sure.

Before the case was set in motion, Meredith quickly made enquiries, reckoned things up and sent Geoffrey to the city again: with an offer to sell a flat part of his own lands for the future railway. Geoffrey used his old connections, found some new ones, and the tracks were laid so as to bypass Marion's farmland through his father's lower lots. The land was sold almost for nothing, but in a clever way: Geoffrey sold only the land needed for the railroad bed, but not the adjacent grounds. Everybody wondered why Meredith would need them at all: Using them as pastures would become dangerous, because sheep loved walking along the tracks or even taking a ride on the cow-catcher. But Meredith had his own ideas which he shared only with Elsie. He thought about a future station and all possibilities connected to it – for Geoffrey in the first place. He himself wasn't going to betray his sheep.

Nevertheless, Elsie felt that he was hooked by the steam engine in a way. He would never admit it even to her, but the puffing and hooting monster stirred something close to admiration even in his skeptical heart.

Geoffrey appreciated the steam engine from the practical view-point: Now, the middlemen were even easier to circumvent. In his own heart, there was no space for trains left. Since he had first returned from the city, some things were starting to get clearer for him. Before he died, Robin had asked him not to leave Marion alone, and he had promised, of course, but now he was suspecting more and more that Robin didn't mean only the help with cattle and field work. In the city where a couple of well-standing fathers gave him a hint that in spite of his background he could have a fair chance with their lovely daughters, and they themselves wouldn't mind, Geoffrey became aware that womenfolk were a terrific thing all in the whole, but all those tawdry city girls were nothing in comparison with Marion. Time didn't dull his feelings. Slowly but surely he had been coming to a high boil, reminding himself of a steam engine: He constantly kept himself busy and was always striving for something just to release the steam.

When he was in his early twenties – which meant Elsie was around seventeen or eighteen – he suddenly realized that firstly, this situation couldn't go on forever; and secondly, it didn't have to. This last realization was not an achievement of his own. His father finally got so tired of his sighing, quiet suffering, and mutterings while asleep, that he once couldn't stop himself from saying: "Why don't you just marry her then?" Geoffrey choked on his tea – Meredith had chosen the right moment.

"And why not?" went on Meredith nonchalantly. "She's got the farm, the cattle are doing well…" Now it was appropriate to say something about Marion's personal merits: "And her cooking is more or less acceptable."

In Geoffrey's eyes, the understatement was so blatant that he coughed again.

"Well, you certainly can't expect a decent shepherd's pie from her, upon my word."

Geoffrey respected his father too much to say aloud where, he believed, his shepherd's pie should go. Instead he expressed the thought that was worrying him most:

"She'll never accept me. I guess."

"Bah. You won over the railway – you'll coax her as well."

Since his father wasn't going to give him any practical advice in approaching Marion, Geoffrey decided to appeal to an even more dubious helper – also, because he thought she had the right to know about his intentions.

"It's good that you're sitting," Geoffrey said, not knowing how to start properly. Elsie was picking fleas out of the semi-noble offspring of one of her dogs. "I'd like to tell you something – but it's strictly confidential."

It seemed that fleas interested Elsie much more than other people's secrets. That didn't make finding right words easier.

"The fact is… Probably you'll think it's improper, but still…" he rasped. "I'm afraid I'm in love with your ma."

Elsie went on picking out the fleas. After a couple of seconds, she raised her head and looked at Geoffrey expectantly:

"So?"

"So what?"

"Where is your confidential secret?"

"That was it."

"Ah. That's some secret all right."

Geoffrey went pale and red at the same time.

"Are you kidding me or is it really that obvious?"

"Peter!" Her brother was repairing the roof. "D'you happen to know who Geoff is mooning about?"

"Heh! Who doesn't know that? Oh, no, only Ma doesn't, that's right!" he laughed and nearly fell from the roof.

"Molly," Elsie called the help who just came into the yard, "if, say, Peggy Peabody or some other Wollypennie scarecrow came up to you and asked what's her chance to go out with this Geoff here on Friday, what'd you answer?"

Molly snorted:

"If she finds a witch (May the Lord save us!), who'll unspell him from our mistress, then who knows?" She turned to Geoffrey with a confidential compassion: "I've an Auntie in New Orleans. Not a witch (May the Lord save us!), but she makes greatest potions and what not. You'd better go to her, Master Geoffrey, otherwise you'll get your roof blown off sooner or later. You'll waste away like this, you'll see."

"I don't need no potions," Geoffrey frowned. "I want to marry her."

Molly burst out laughing. Elsie let the dog go, and stood up with her arms akimbo.

"Geoffrey Meredith. I'll tell you one thing. If you ever become my Pa, just you try to boss me around! Just you try!"

"I wish I could," Geoffrey sniggered. "Look, Elsie, I really won't, honestly. As if I didn't know you."

Molly looked at them incredulously.

"That's not the way folks do it… That's kind of topsy-turvy wrong."

"Oi, Geoff!" cried Peter from the roof. "Don't listen to no-one! Let me ask Ma for you!"

"No, thanks, I'll manage by myself. And don't tell her anything, you hear me? It's confidential! Or it was, at least…" Geoffrey seriously regretted that he had started this conversation.

"Have you promised that you won't boss me around?" Elsie wasn't letting her issue go. "Then I'm on your side. Don't fret, I won't spoil anything. I'll just lend you a hand if needed. And that's the deal: If we succeed, than you'll help me, too," she smiled slyly and stuck her tongue at Molly. The latter went back to work muttering something about those wild Northerners.

It's easy to say "I'll manage by myself." Every time an opportunity presented itself to have a confidential talk with Marion, Geoffrey immediately forgot both how to smile and how to soldier on. What made it even worse: After becoming a widow, Marion had tried her hand at matchmaking. It went pretty well, so she would now often start the subject with Geoffrey, discussing the girls that might interest him. That confused him even more. Elsie and the boys only rolled up their eyes or winked at each other, demonstrating their complete allegiance. This also wasn't helping raising his spirits.

One could only hope for some lucky set of circumstances, preferably dramatic, but not excessively so: So that Marion could have an opportunity to fall upon his neck, for example. But unfortunately – here Geoffrey corrected himself reproachfully – no, thank goodness, nothing like that was coming to help.

Once, Elsie and Geoffrey were getting themselves ready to go to the fair. It was the first time that something like that took place in our parts: with the circus, climbing up a greased pole and all that nonsense. Meredith, Geoffrey, and Marion thought it was a huge waste of time, but Elsie immediately got hooked on turkey shoots, bobbing for apples, and heart-to-heart conversations with the Bearded Woman. A couple of years ago, she could have run off to such an event by herself, but now she was regarded as a young girl and not as a little devil's spawn which meant an obligatory hat and an obligatory companion. Peter and John were too small for that, and besides, Marion had forbidden them to go back to the fair, after they had gotten drunk there on its first day. They managed to confuse apple juice with the cider – accidentally, as Elsie swore. A jolly evening of singing was followed by a horrible night of puking – the cider was clearly fermented.

Now that Elsie knew his Secret, it was easy to make Geoffrey accompany her. While she was making herself pretty – that is, was sharpening her knives just in case, Marion was bringing Geoffrey in order, combing his unruly hair and dusting off invisible specks from his vest. He thought that such a treatment was worth the whole trip, but then Marion started the same old story:

"Spend less time bobbing for apples there, and more looking around." She sighed. "I may be a good matchmaker, but I truly don't know what to do with you, Geoffrey. Peggy Peabody is a simpering fool. Martha Lund fell in love with an Abbot boy. Annie Clam is a bit too old for you…"

"No, she isn't!" Geoffrey burst. Elsie rolled up her eyes, and Marion heartened up:

"D'you like Annie?"

"No! I don't! Absolutely not!" exclaimed Geoffrey in dismay.

Marion sighed again.

"The most promising of my bachelors, and there is no one to match. I see it as a personal affront."

"Why is he so good?" Elsie asked nonchalantly, putting the knives away.

"Only you could ask such a silly question. It's evident for everyone but you!"

"I honestly don't get it, Ma. He seems to be kind of good looking all right…"

"Kind of?! Just look at him! I've never seen anyone more handsome! His eyes! And his stature! And the moment he smiles – anyone's heart would leap out! Except for those who only think of climbing greased poles and hunting boars! And so smart, too, with all those books he'd read. And hard-working! All right, so he doesn't have a proper farm, sheep don't count, but such a son-in-law will be welcome anywhere! Ma O'Shaughnessy promised me two piglets if I match him with her Susan, but Susan has already come to an understanding with the middle Jensen who is too afraid to come close to a calf, so no piglets for me there. What a wretched business. No matches for him at all – he'll be wasted here, and that's it."

"Why don't you marry him yourself then?"

Geoffrey shut his eyes tight. In Marion's silence, you could hear thunder.

"Elsie Brooks. Better bite this snake tongue of yours! What on earth are you talking about?"

Geoffrey quickly gave himself a mental kick:

"I'd be really happy, Marion. It's true, there is no better one than you."

Marion kept looking at them incredulously, but then got herself together.

"All rait. This is surely very funny, kiddoes," she stressed 'kiddoes.' "A very Elsie-kind of joke. I wouldn't expect it from you, Geoffrey, but if it's amusing, then do have a laugh – only spare me, please. That's it, go to your— wretched fair, and I don't want to hear any more of that."

Geoffrey looked crestfallen.

"It's not a joke—"

"I said that's it, Sweetie, enough is enough. Go now," she was pushing them to the porch, "bob for your apples, laugh at elderly people, you're working way too much, prob'ly you need a vent. Still, it'd be better if you didn't follow Elsie's steps," and with this she slammed the door behind them.

They rode to the fair in a discouraged silence. "Elderly," finally muttered Elsie. "Thirty-two, and she's elderly, go figure… And that, while looking like twenty-five…" "Twenty-three," Geoffrey wanted more symmetry. "No matter," Elsie snuffled, "we'll think of something." Geoffrey just sighed.

After a mile or two, they met Meredith. He had some business in Wollypennie, and now wanted to drop by at the Brookses' on the way home, to look at a limping mare.

"She rejected him," Elsie went off at once. Meredith raised his eyebrows. "Gave him the cold shoulder just like this! To such a promisin' bachelor!" Geoffrey just sighed.

"I'll talk to her," promised Meredith.

"No, Dad, I'll take care of it myself."

"Yes, Jacob, you'll just make it worse."

"Hasn't he already? In that case, what's the difference? And, Elsie, you watch out," Meredith was already riding off, but turned back to them, "don't you overdo it at that *** fair, we've got that shearing tomorrow." And he rode on. Because of Geoffrey's business, he had forgotten to tell Elsie something else about the competition tomorrow, but that wasn't that important.

Meredith had thought that the mare needed a new shoe, but it turned out that the problem lay in the leg itself. He went to Brooks' storehouse to get some ingredients for an ointment and met Marion on the way. During the years of their neighborhood, she got used to his manner of speech, and after the story with the railroad, she firmly believed that he was hiding a heart of gold somewhere deep inside of his surly soul. That was why she met him cordially and offered him some home-made ale. But he never let ceremonies postpone a business matter:

"What's wrong with my son?" he began right off the boat. "You were always happy with him, and suddenly he's no *** good, how's that?" He folded his arms on his chest demonstrating a reserved, but rightful indignation.

Marion's indignation wasn't so reserved:

"Jacob Meredith! And you, too! I've had enough of that silly joke!"

"Where's the *** joke?"

At that moment Marion finally understood that it wasn't a joke.

"Are you sound? I'm old enough to be his mother!"

"No, you actually aren't."

"But… but I saw him grow up!"

"That's so. And now he's grown. Why ain't he e-li-gi-ble?"

"Jacob Meredith. I'm not denying it: You have a wonderful son."

"Quite right."

"Which means that he can make many young girls happy – no, better he makes one girl happy, but what does it have to do with me?"

"You're not worse than them in his opinion."

"But… it's not right!"

"Why?"

"It's like... like if you'd married, I don't know – Elsie!"

For the first time, Marion managed to dumbfound Meredith completely.

"Well, I say! How could you even get that in your mind?! What a shame!"

"And what's the difference?"

"There's whole lot of difference! On the one hand, we've got a young man in his prime and a still young woman in more or less of her prime. And on the other – a little girl and…"

"That's not true! On the other hand, there is a young girl in her prime and a still – Oh sugar! No, I mean: Right you are! Neither are you a match – and nor are we, that's it!"

(A couple of years ago, Meredith had stopped sleeping back to back with Elsie on the pastures, and just now he incidentally found out the reason for that intuitive decision.)

"Marion Brooks," he said firmly. "That's chalk and cheese. Two different things. Just be honest with yourself – and think a bit about you and Geoffrey," he nodded, turned around and left, forgetting entirely about the mare. It came to his mind later in the evening. He cursed and rode to the farm again – that horse was sturdier than the rest, and he wanted Elsie to take it tomorrow.

Elsie and Geoffrey brightened up a bit on the fair: Geoffrey liked shooting, too, and then managed to figure out some of the magician's secrets; and Elsie won in Indian wrestling three times in a row, crushing big fellows seemingly only with her will-power. One of them wanted to marry her immediately afterwards, a nice fight ensued – all in the whole, it was a great evening, and she rode back in a refreshed mood. Beer buzzed happily in her head, and she felt inclined to some plain-speaking.

"I'll tell you a Secret, too, Geoff, so that we're even. No, actually it's more of a question, than a secret. Keeps breaking my head all the time. Looks like I sort of fancy your dad. Now, how can I hook him? Although look at you, you can't even cope with my mother…"

Geoffrey was speechless for a while.

"Yeah, I know, he could be my father, what a shame, and so forth… But what can I do, if I like him? And he's not that old. Look, that Rob Martens there who tried to hit on me today – he's older! And he's got a *** beard! And that didn't stop him, that son of a ***. Dirty old ***, *** him! Now, your dad, on the other side – he's good all round and couldn't be better. In my opinion. Or am I wrong?"

"No, you're right…" said Geoffrey miserably. It felt silly to raise objections in his position. "But that's getting really weird… Wouldn't you then become my ma?"

"Oh no," cackled Elsie, "I'd become your evil stepmother!"

"Ah, that makes more sense."

"You see! It all fits. If I only knew how to get to him… Looks like he's much more unbreakable than my Ma."

"Well, you have to keep in mind that he's actually a very straightforward person. What he sees is what's in it. If you just draw his attention to the fact that you've grown, he'll start looking at you differently."

"Is that all?"

"I guess so."

"The problem is that I'm not that tall. Ma's a head taller than me."

"It's not about your height! It's a different kind of growth…" he reddened. "Not in that direction."

"Oh I see! You're talking about my b— all right, I got it. I haven't thought about that at all," she adjusted her shirt and grew mellow. "Cheer up, Geoff. Ma just needs time. Let her get used to this thought. Keep working on her politely every day – and she'll give in, you'll see."

Geoffrey nodded thoughtfully.

After they returned home, they brought their horses to the barn where they met Meredith who was still unhappy about the mare. As an answer to Geoffrey's silent question, he just crinkled his nose and rolled up his eyes: "Those women…" Elsie stayed to lend him a hand, and Geoffrey went into the house, to, you know, inform Marion that they'd come back. Marion who had already put the boys to bed met him in the doorway.

"I beg your pardon, Marion, I honestly didn't want to offend you," here Geoffrey remembered her facial expression and couldn't hide a smile. Marion pouted back, but he had the impression that she was trying hard not to smile back.

"You must be right," he went on. "We are maybe no match, but you know," his own smile helped him to the same inspiration with which he had been doing business in the city, "we'll never know for sure whether we fit or not, unless we try it out a bit. And then we can always say: 'Nah, something is definitely not right.' Or: 'That's not what I thought it would be.' And if we…" – at that point Marion covered his mouth with her hand.

"All right, Geoffrey, but no foolery: If it's wrong, it's wrong."

Marion reasoned that one trial kiss couldn't do any harm, and indeed, there was none. Rather on the contrary – no, not that there was any benefit either, but…

"Somehow it does feel right," murmured Marion.

"Seems like it, but I always prefer to re-check." And so they re-checked one more time, and then a couple of more, and at the end, as Marion later recalled in embarrassment, "we were carried away a bit."

"Geoffrey," said Marion still panting and vaguely approving of the fact that at least there was a rug underneath them – as if a bare floor would have been completely indecent, "do you still want to marry me?"

"M-m," came from the region of her collarbone.

"It may very well be that after I'll come to my senses, I'll be appalled and change my mind, but for now, I'm quickly telling you 'Yes,' and you'd better hold on to it, whatever I'll tell you later, do you get my meaning?"

"M-m," a load had been taken from Geoffrey's heart. "D'you mind if we… um… re-check it all again? Or is it not the way it's done?"

"To make sure that I don't change my mind any time soon? Sounds very sensible. Let's go upstairs though, I don't want to imagine what Elsie will say seeing us here. By the way, where is she?"

**MEREDITH**

Elsie couldn't boast about much progress in her affairs. In fact, there was none at all.

Firstly, the mare didn't like the smell of Meredith's ointment and was behaving like a swine, thus becoming an additional distracting factor.

Secondly, attracting Meredith's attention to her appearance turned out to be a not-so-good idea. Elsie tried a primitive, but effective way to do so using a little harmless spider. It was webbing its nets in a corner and all of sudden found itself first in Elsie's nimble fingers and then under her shirt.

"Eeeh-oh!" Her wriggling and jerking was quite natural because the spider was tickling her. "Goodness, that's some yucky beast that's fallen inside me!"

"Get it out then," Meredith was more interested in the horse.

"It won't! Oh dearie, it's biting me! Gosh, what a biting *** of a monster, I can't stand the spiders' bile!"

She tried to reach into her cleavage demonstrating a significant equilibristic prowess.

"Can't you do something?!"

"Take your shirt off then."

"Take your shirt off yourself! Help me already, I can't reach it!"

"Neither can I." But then Meredith came up to her, pulled back her dress in the waist region with one hand, and shook her by the shoulders with another. The spider fell down and rushed away successfully. Meredith put her back and readjusted her clothes.

"Was it worth the entire racket?" While adjusting her dress, he finally looked at where he was supposed to. But that only made him frown and mutter: "Blimey, what a crying shame."

He inspected Elsie from the front, then from one side, then from the other, wrinkled his nose and shook his head:

"That's just so wrong," and looked at her as if this shameful bosom was entirely her fault.

"Now, what can be done with it?" contemplated Meredith, ignoring Elsie who was torn between rage and desperation. "Why did you have to grow the wrong way? That's utterly abominable!" In truth, he was angry with himself for not having noticed her altered measurements. And now it was too late: The shearing competition was due tomorrow, and there was no way— suddenly he realized that he forgot to explain the whole thing to Elsie.

"Oh, what a moron I am."

"Indeed! To call such *** abominable, one must be an astronomical moron! 'Grew the wrong way', I say!" Only now did Meredith notice Elsie's explosive condition, but in view of the current situation, that was of no importance.

"Stop pouting, you've got excellent– that is, you're a young gal in your prime, and so on and so forth, which is our main problem at the moment. 'Cuz how are we supposed to go to Coughpeeksie tomorrow? It turns out they've changed the rules, and now, *** 'em, only men are allowed to participate! Suddenly it has become improper for womenfolk, ***! It's sheep, for goodness sake! Anyway, Geoffrey is slower than you, Peter and John are still no good at all, and that's why I thought: That's not a bother; she'll just put on some pants, we'll hide her hair, put some soot on her chin as if she's unshaved – and here we go, me and my nephew Abe. Some nephew," he finished bitterly, nodding in the direction of her chest.

To miss the competition because of such a trifle was unthinkable. The rest could wait.

"Wait here," said Elsie. "Take care of Lucy, and I'll be back in a flash."

In a minute, she was already climbing up the outer ladder to the attic where her dad's old clothes were kept among other things. In five minutes, she was back, dressed in baggy pants, boots and a light shirt – with another shirt, a jacket and a big bolt of cloth in her hands.

"Let's wrap it around," together they tightened up her abominable riches as hard as they could. After having put the second shirt on, Elsie looked quite passable.

"Let's cut my hair as well!" she offered shaking her curls enthusiastically.

"No, that's quite enough of that," said Meredith firmly. "That's my nephew we're making of you, and not a sheep."

They rode out at dawn, leaving the flocks with already experienced Peter and John. Next evening, they came back – with a trophy and a bag of silver dollars which they immediately shared fifty/fifty in all fairness.

The competition went quite smoothly, although the pastor's wife who happened to be an honorable judge representing the local charities was wrinkling her nose at young Abe Meredith's horrible manners and vocabulary. His shearing skills were indeed impressive, but they shouldn't cancel out uncivilized behavior, should they? She was thinking of taking a couple of points from him to teach him a lesson, when Jacob Meredith said to her quietly:

"You must forgive him, ma'am. Fact is: The fellow's grown among Injuns. They stole him when he was a baby."

"Oh, dear!" the pastor's wife went bug-eyed. "That explains everything, of course! Oh, that poor young man! But how did he escape?"

"The strange thing is: They brought him back on their own accord," replied Meredith earnestly, ignoring Elsie's suppressed grunting.

Geoffrey and Marion decided against traumatizing their relatives and friends too soon and tried to bring attention neither to their relationship, nor to their intentions. After she came home that first evening, Elsie was too busy with her own ruffled feelings and, most importantly, with the transformation into a convincing boy, that's why nothing unusual caught her ear. Meredith, in his turn, was too accustomed to Geoffrey's overnight stays at the Brookses' to pay this one any attention. And so life went on without any sensational news. Several days went by, and Geoffrey and Marion were still absolutely sure that their conspiratorial skills were working quite well, not suspecting that the other farm dwellers had gotten wind of it pretty soon, but didn't consider it necessary to acknowledge it.

Mike and Molly were used to underground existence anyway. The only thing Molly didn't approve of was "living in sin" itself – but maybe it was a custom of those wild Northerners, and at least they had decency to cover it up.

The boys thought that all was fine the way it was.

Elsie did notice one day that not only Geoffrey came down for breakfast from Ma's bedroom, but he also brought her coffee in bed. However, she was not in the mood to gloat over the thing, because she was way too engrossed with Meredith. That annoyed her a lot, but what could she do: Meredith was constantly slipping through her fingers, misusing that damned British reserve which he somehow managed to combine with his overall offhandedness. That drove her mad all right.

"What is it he wants, anyway?" she once slammed her mug at the table spilling coffee all over the place.

"Who?" asked Marion absentmindedly. She was immersed in the "to-do" list for the day. There were so many "to-do's" that she had to write them down: 'bake more bread,' 'laundry' – drop of Elsie's coffee – 'stuff the sausages – Molly?' (crossed out, Molly didn't do it the right way); 'check the babies: Lunds, Piggsley, Jensens, Eleanor – ?' "Right, I also wonder what it wants, that wretched baby of Eleanor– it doesn't want to get out of her, and it's her second week overdue… It looks like an eight-pounder already, and what are we going to do with it?"

Peter had already led the cows out. Geoffrey and John had filled half of the table with drafts and models made out of spoons and pots trying to improve on Meikle's threshing machine. By this time, they had to be in the fields already, but they were carried away by the scientific fervor and didn't pay Elsie due attention either.

"I'm leaving," she said sourly. "Gonna look for that boar."

Marion and Geoffrey raised their heads.

"Aha. All by yourself? Are you sound in the mind?"

"And didn't you want to go with my dad in a couple of days anyway?"

"I won't go with him nowhere no more," Elsie went into heavy pouting. "He doesn't like me."

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Marion. "Of course he likes you! He loves you like…" she remembered her last conversation with Meredith, "like his own daughter!"

Geoffrey bit his lip. Elsie's glance could fry a steak.

"That's it," she said firmly. "I'll be back for supper."

"You aren't going anywhere," said Marion as strictly as she could. "That's a sheer folly."

"Right, Elsie, call it off, it is dangerous, and you know that."

"Now, don't you try to command me, Geoff! Remember your promise? You married Ma – and that means: No bossing me around!"

"Married! I so wish he did!" Molly's voice was heard from the threshold – she and Mike just came in. "Living in sin instead – and having no shame!"

"What's the difference?" muttered Elsie without paying attention to frozen Geoffrey and Marion.

"What's the difference?! Oh, Miss Elsie, Lord save you, but the devils in Hell will explain to you quite well what the difference is!" Molly stroke a pose.

"Let 'em try, I can explain a lot to them myself! And by the way: Why do I have to go there? Me – I ain't living in sin!" Elsie said with both acidity and displeasure.

"Ma, how does one live in sin?" asked John. "You do gambling there, right?"

Geoffrey couldn't stop himself:

"We don't live in your— sin anymore! ("What do you mean with 'your'?" started Molly indignantly) We have already been at Father McKenzie's, and he married us, only we haven't got the rings yet."

Marion shut her eyes tight – and rightly so, because the wave of common indignation followed at once.

"And you didn't tell us?!" both Elsie and Molly put their arms akimbo.

"And what about the wedding? With music? And dances! And with everybody fighting afterwards!" John was whining.

" Missus Marion, Mister Geoffrey – my heartfelt congratulations," said Mike gravely, thinking that at least one person here should represent the voice of reason.

"No, Ma, now that's really a disgrace."

"I promise you, Elsie, that we'll organize something festive, but a bit later, when there's not so much work. Just look at that," Marion slapped her palm over the notebook where she wrote down her "to-do" lists. "A proper wedding won't get in there now!"

"You could've waited."

"Living in sin?" Molly hopped on her again. "Well, it's a shame indeed, but you did it right, Missus Marion."

"In fact, I was just fretting that your ma would change her mind, that's why I pushed a bit," confessed Geoffrey shyly.

"But you did tell your pa, I bet," Elsie was sulking again.

"Not yet. But we will. He had approved of the whole thing already. And you know that both Dad and Father McKenzie cannot stand each other anyway."

"'Cuz he's a long-nosed devil, that dad of his," whispered Molly to Mike so that Elsie could hear it, too. The latter made a face at her, but then switched to more urgent matters:

"All rait, in that case, I'll be your wedding organizer! One has to plan these things well in advance. The music, and all the fun, John is right. I'll send a note to the jugglers, and to Miss Smiley – the one with the beard, and also to the Thinnest Man on Earth – they'll all come if I ask them. We'll have a grand wedding then!"

Marion wasn't quite sure about the bearded woman.

"You'd better call all those beggars and freaks to your own wedding, Miss Elsie," snorted Molly.

"My wedding? I don't need no wedding. For your information: I'll be living in sin with great pleasure!"

"You sure will. 'Cuz with such a blasphemer, you'll have no choice! They won't let him not even onto the church grounds – with that tongue of his!"

"Who is she talking about?" asked puzzled Marion.

A short pause ensued.

"Elsie wants to marry Uncle Jacob and to live in sin with him," explained John to his slow-witted mother.

The pause returned full force. Marion opened her mouth trying to say something, but could only inhale a couple of times. Then she reminded herself that she was dealing with Bobkitty from whom one could expect anything, so there was no reason at all to be amazed or appalled. She gave it some thought and then began with the most essential part:

"You are in love with Jacob Meredith. And he isn't. That's why you want to chase the boar all by yourself."

Elsie nodded sullenly.

"Let me come with you, Miss Elsie!" volunteered Mike.

"You've already shot two; I wanna do this one myself."

"Wait a minute! Who's saying that 'he isn't'?" exclaimed Molly at the same time. "Where's this come from? He'll sell his soul for our Elsie – if he hasn't done it already, Lord forgive me, and you, too, Mister Geoffrey."

"They say he loves me like a daughter."

"Nah, that's not how one loves a daughter. That's rather how one loves his English Queen. Whatever you say or do – everything's fine with him. No father would ever stand that. And don't look at me like this. I can see it all much better from aside. He may not know it hisself – but that's another thing."

Even the complicated relationship of her daughter with Meredith was not as important to Marion as the upcoming boar.

"Rait. About that boar. No one is hunting it tonight, and I'm going to tell you why. First, you should step carefully in such matters – and I don't mean the boar now. Rushing to chase boars is the last thing you can do here. And secondly – and most important: You are to stuff the sausages today! Here," she shook her notebook triumphantly. "Everything is written down right here: 'stuff sausages – Elsie.' You'll stuff the sausages, and then we'll do the talking."

At the same time, Geoffrey gave Elsie a wink: I'll lend a hand, too, like I promised.

"And besides," went on Marion. "What are you all doing here? And me as well! Now, Johnny, I'll tell you what it means 'to live in sin': To sit in the kitchen all day long, chatting and doing nothing!"

When Geoffrey came home, his father was sitting on the floor by the fireplace cleaning his gun. Boar hunt was a serious business.

"Dad," said Geoffrey, "I need your advice." Meredith merely nodded. "I thought it over again, and I realized that I'm making a mistake. First, I won't be able to get Marion anyway. Secondly, we aren't a good match in truth. Not that we aren't matching, but if one tried to be reasonable about the whole thing, it'd be much more sensible for me to marry Elsie instead. Not that I really fancy her, but it'd be somehow right."

"Give Marion more time and stop talking nonsense."

"But why is this nonsense? Elsie has her drawbacks all right, but one can get used to them. And she does look – passable," Geoffrey decided to beat his father in understatements.

"Rubbish. She knows that you're in love with her mother, and will never marry you."

"She'll understand that it was some sort of a folly on my part."

"Pffft. If she'd loved you herself, then maybe she could've lived with that. But as it is – she's got no reason to."

"Maybe she'll fall for me?"

"I don't think so. She's had enough time for it – and it never worked out. No, she needs someone new. Also, to get all that nonsense out of her head."

"What 'all that nonsense'?"

"Oh well…" Meredith sighed and silently started assembling the gun.

"You mean that she fancies _you_, right?" it dawned on Geoffrey suddenly. "And how d'you know?"

"Do I look like a moron? She's one step away of shouting it out loud on every corner."

"Well?"

"What's 'well?' Until she gets rid of this fancy you've got no chance with her at all. And afterwards even less."

"I mean why don't you use your chance then? While you still have it? Don't you like her at all?"

Meredith was assembling the gun without saying a word. Then he reconsidered something and started disassembling it all over again. He realized quite well that he couldn't imagine his life without Elsie. She was the ideal partner of his every undertaking, she understood him without a word, she talked his language, albeit with a different accent, and what a bother! – She'd grown into a real beauty. He didn't want to notice that fact for a while, because it made it all complicated.

"What do I have to do with it?" he grumbled finally. "I'm here, she's there…" Geoffrey knew that he didn't mean geographical locations.

"But, Dad, on the other hand, no one else will ever be able to cope with her, isn't it so? Without offending her, that is. I bet, she could search half of her life, and won't find anyone better. Or are you afraid that you won't cope with her either?"

Meredith only rolled up his eyes – "Trying to dare me, huh?" Aloud he said:

"And why are you playing my matchmaker all of a sudden? Didn't you want to marry her yourself?"

"I changed my mind. Oh well, actually, I didn't think about that at all. Me and Marion got married yesterday, and I was looking for a good way to tell you."

"Still lying, aren't you?"

"Should I show you the certificate?"

"Please do."

Meredith studied the document from top to bottom and even sniffed at the ink.

"Who could've thought," he chuckled finally.

"We'll celebrate officially, but a bit later, when we have time. You could join us, you know. I bet Elsie would have nothing against it."

But Meredith only shook his head. Then he put the gun aside and reached out for his tea mug nearly confusing it with the oil can. "Damn, it's the boar hunt tomorrow – best time to lose one's head," he thought.

I can see that you already know how it will go, don't you? The wild boar will create a long-awaited dramatic situation which will give Meredith a chance to show his worth. Elsie will fall upon his neck as a true damsel in a true distress, and afterwards they will only have to go and make peace with Father McKenzie. If you really believe all that, it tells me one thing about you: You've never been to a boar hunt.

Boars appeared in our woods not long before, but soon managed to become a universal bother, disturbing other forest dwellers and destroying the fields. Meredith and Elsie had already managed to shoot one that season, but it turned out to be a sow. Meredith was quite happy about eliminating the source of other hogs, but Elsie envied Mike's trophy – a huge pair of tusks that he hung above his and Molly's bed, to the latter's constant sorrow. From then on, Elsie kept dreaming about her own tusks and knew that their owner is roving somewhere not far. But that boar was deviously cunning and hard to track down.

Early in the morning, Elsie was waiting for Meredith while mulling over Ma's lessons about man-hunting – skeptically, but with the curiosity of an explorer.

"Where's Clementine?" asked Meredith instead of a greeting. Clementine was Elsie's keenest and staunchest dog.

"You know, she got pups a couple of days ago."

"Elsie, why on earth aren't you looking after your dogs?"

"Ain't I looking? I'm looking. Almost all of the pups have buyers already."

"And what about Poops?"

"Poops is still a nincompoop, he can only track squirrels." Elsie started to count: "Mr. Pitkin hurt his paw, Imogene's eaten too much bean soup, Truffles and Fungus wanted to go, but they are way too old for the boar…"

"Well, that's some hunt. Who's going to track it then?" All Meredith's dogs were shepherd purebreds; he never took them hunting.

"I think I studied this one pretty well already. We'll just follow its traces."

However, the boar showed an ingenious felinity and guile. They had been walking all over the deepest forest for the whole morning, having left the horses behind, but each "fresh trace" turned out to be for naught.

Luck wasn't on Elsie's side in love matters, either. All tactical maneuvers she tried out on the path were turning into flops. Marion had explained that being seen as a grown girl wasn't enough. She must also evoke interest and curiosity. That's why she shouldn't chat too much, but rather remain enigmatically silent – with an air of "I know something you don't know and won't tell you, ho-ho." Chatting during the hunt was not a good idea anyway, so Elsie was making a good effort in snapping her eyes at Meredith with the silent "ho-ho." It seemed to be quite a success, until he finally said: "If you know something I don't know then tell me already." Elsie had no idea what her mysterious message was all about and started sulking – at Ma, and at Meredith, too, taking a more haughty expression: "As if I ever needed you!" However, it turned out that Meredith could beat her easily in making a retaliatory "And what do I care?" face which didn't improve her mood.

They went through all boar-susceptible places, some of them more than once which was especially affronting, when Meredith finally made a halt and put his gun butt on the ground with a hopeless air.

"Breakfast?" suggested Elsie. He nodded – the clearing was quite inviting – and they settled down to have a snack.

They were eating in silence, each deep in her or his mirthless thoughts. Meredith thought that instead of hunting the bloody boar he should've started preparing pastures and sheep to the winter; he was getting late already. Elsie thought that the stupid boar had fallen into some pitfall and bit the dust, and they were still looking for it like complete idiots. Meredith wondered how he could take Elsie to the pastures now that he didn't know how to deal with her at all. Elsie thought that she'd turn into an old hag before Meredith felt like kissing her… What the boar was thinking about, remained unknown, but there it was – all of a sudden standing on the clearing in front of them, without having creaked a branch.

The boar was not a truly giant one, but still of a solid size. It was looking straight at Elsie as if showing off its desirable tusks ready to hit. As ill luck would have it, she had moved a bit farther from a soggy mound on which she had left her gun. The boar was looking at Elsie, and she at it. Suddenly, it bowed its head, but at that very moment Meredith had already pushed her aside, raised his gun and shot aiming at the neck. He hit the more "armored" part – the boar shuddered, roared and went straight onto him. Meredith barely missed the tusks, and tried pushing the boar with his gun and moving out of its way while drawing his knife. "Stay away!" he shouted to Elsie, but she had already pulled out her two knives, ran close to the boar's other side and thrust them right into a crucial spot above the elbow. The boar roared, leaped, and then went quiet.

For some while, the silence was being broken only by their heavy panting, but then Meredith had enough of it. Elsie had never heard so much swearing at once, even from him.

"If the boar were alive, he'd died of shame now." She tried to interrupt the flood of his cussing.

"*** *** ***! Get up and help me!"

Elsie got out from under the boar's side and went around the cadaver: Meredith was almost completely crushed down by the bulk.

"Why don't you have a nap? I bet it's quite warm down there. All right, let me try to do something."

She tried to pull him out, but Meredith only hissed in pain. Then she tried to push the boar away – it was terribly heavy.

"You must help, too. On the count of three: one, two, three…" Both strained as hard as they could and moved the bulk a bit – but it seemed to have fallen right into a small depression in the ground and stuck there. Elsie strained again, but then was taken over by a bout of nervous laughter.

"Will you stop it at once and do something! ***! Try from the other side!"

Elsie dug into the other side of the bulk helping herself with her gun. She grunted a couple of times – and then the boar finally moved assisted by Meredith who didn't stop swearing. After he managed to get himself free, he tried to stand up, but then hissed again clutching his ankle.

"Is it broken?" panted Elsie.

"Strained I guess."

"Let me." She probed his leg. "Oh, that's an easier job. Just crawl to that tree there and hold on tight."

Meredith grabbed the tree. Elsie braced his leg and yanked it with force. He gasped, but it seemed like he'd used up all of his swearing words supply, so he could only moan quietly through his teeth for a while.

"Are you still alive?"

He got up, leaning on the tree, and made a couple of steps.

"That'll do. Ta. I mean: Thanks."

"Rait. And what now?"

"Home."

"And the boar?"

"I'll send Geoffrey to fetch the tusks, or we can come back here later."

"And what about its meat?"

"What about what meat? That's a huge stinky beast – its meat'll be as stinky."

"Not at all. Mike's one wasn't much smaller, and it turned into a splendid sausage. You ate it yourself. Ma won't forgive us if we don't bring the meat."

"***," said Meredith sadly. "Then let's field-dress it. But faster, there are plenty of other… solicitors around."

"Yeah, look at all that blood, even a shark can smell it and swim up here."

Now, it was Meredith's turn to have a fit of laughter, but he coughed it out quickly and returned to business.

Dressing a huge boar is not a piece of cake. Even without the tusks, it turned out to be a big burden – they could barely carry it to the horses using a blanket, and then barely made it to the Brookses' with a stretcher made of the blanket and some branches.

On that day, Marion organized a big laundering action. They put huge tubs on a meadow near the house, brought water, boiled half of it and got to business. They almost finished hanging out the laundry around four o'clock, but there was still a vat of soapy water left, and it was a shame to pour it out. It had been used for only one rinsing of some not-so-dirty clothes, so it was begging for some more. But that meant undressing the family members, and they were having their objections.

Molly was the first one to notice the riders.

"Here comes Miss Elsie. Guess her pants (May the Lord forgive us!) could get filthy after the hunt. There'd be something for that tub, Missus Marion."

"That's far from enough," grumbled Marion wringing a big blanket with Geoffrey's help. Molly squinted harder:

"Dearie dearie, Missus Marion… Just you look at that… Guess it's not only her pants… Guess the devils would indeed get scared of our Miss Elsie, if she dropped by them…"

Elsie and Meredith were pretty proud of their bounty, and quite worn out as well, so they hadn't given much thought to their looks.

"Jacob Meredith! What have you done to my daughter?!"

Now, Geoffrey had always respected Marion's views and opinions, but that statement could be a bit less biased in his eyes.

"Elsie! What have you done to my dad?"

Elsie and Meredith looked at each other. They both never knew how to answer such questions, that's why they always ignored them.

"How shall we share it?" Elsie asked Meredith while they were carefully putting the meat down.

"Two of the knives were yours – that makes your two thirds I reckon. If you stuff my sausages as well."

"That's a deal." They shook hands ceremoniously, only now really noticing that not only their hands, but the rest of them was solidly covered with blood. "Here's me, and here's she," mentally registered Meredith. "Sorghum and molasses," commented Molly in loud whisper.

"Looking lovely tonight, Elsie," Meredith announced courteously, but sincerely.

"Thanks, Jacob, you're also looking swell."

"Rait," interrupted Marion that sweet exchange. "Elsie, get off at once, there's a vat with more or less clean water over there. Now then, what can we do…?" Suddenly she was a bit at a loss.

"I'll just get in there." Without waiting for permission, Elsie jumped off the horse and plopped into the vat, dunking head first.

"Yikes, there's soap there. Jacob, you're next!"

"Not after you, thank you. I've got a bathtub at my place."

Elsie snorted, and then tried to somersault, demonstrating the vat's benefits in comparison to a bathtub, but shoved off too hard – the vat reeled and slowly fell on its side. Dirty water poured out of it together with Elsie – right on the yelping Molly and Marion.

"Oh, you… you… baddie! That's awful and nothing to laugh about! Look at her, a grown gal, and she's behaving like, like…" While Marion was gathering up other decent, but effective expressions, Elsie got up and started adjusting her wet clothes methodically.

Suddenly Meredith remembered something.

"You'd better stop that racket, girl, and take care of the meat," he addressed Marion with a fatherly dignity. "Spit-spot!" He turned his horse, nodded to Geoffrey and the rest, and rode away, looking forward to some decent cleaning and a cold bath.

Marion forgot all about Elsie and was looking after him in utter disbelief.

"Well, he has the right now," acknowledged Molly reluctantly.

"Whether he has it or not, I'll show him a 'girl!'"

"If Elsie manages to marry him, you'll become his mother-in-law," observed Geoffrey. Marion looked at him with interest, and then at Elsie questioningly. The latter shook her head: "No progress."

"Doesn't matter, just give him more time. But don't dally. Another such 'spit-spot,' and I can't vouch for myself."

The fall was well in its prime, but came down with a couple of warm sunny days before the real frosts settled in. On such a day, it was especially pleasant to either sit in the sun or to ride out from Wollypennie through the harvested fields.

Mrs. Primstone, the widow of Mayor Primstone and a quite dignified lady in every other respect, got into her best carriage and took the reins herself: Mrs. Primstone preferred to have everything under her own control. She had to ride to the Brookses' today – that was not a pleasant destination at all, but such a lovely day redeemed a lot. Besides, she knew for sure that Marion Brooks – that mean, ungrateful, unashamed Marion – wasn't home (Eleanor Apples had finally decided to give birth, and Marion would stay with her for the whole day.)

However, even without Marion, the Brookses' house was full of objectionable ragtag: Black workers (Lord forbid!) who were even being paid. A suspicious youngster – the son of that even more suspicious shepherd whose cheese was admittedly quite excellent, but they were saying he'd bought the recipe straight from the devil. And the main evil was that abominable piece of a girl, Elsie, who Mrs. Primstone will now unfortunately have to deal with.

Meredith and Elsie had come back from the pastures a couple of days ago, and now Elsie was using one of the last sunny days to hand out Clementine's puppies. They were quite grown already, and now, were happily fighting and squeaking in a fenced partition in the middle of the yard. By midday, most of them were gone, only a couple of outright rascals were still there. Clementine was mourning in the shade, but frankly, she was way too worn out by the pups to grieve a lot. Meredith sat next to Elsie on the porch contemplating silently whether he should also take one pup and train it as a hunting dog. Or merely as someone who'll stay close and bark: "Stop chewing, master, the boar is creeping on tiptoe!" if necessary. Geoffrey, Peter, and John were repairing the threshing machine again. Next to them, Molly and Mike were cleaning up the sheds for the fall. Elsie was writing down her sales in a special genealogical notebook, sticking out her tongue from the mental pressure. She always needed someone's moral support when writing, that's why Meredith agreed to have a short rest with her before going on with his own errands.

The list of pups' names and descriptions was almost ready, when the carriage of the dowager Mrs. Primstone rode into the yard. Elsie raised her head and stood up without hurry to greet the guest. Meredith gave a quiet whistle, but rose up as well. Geoffrey gave Peter a nudge, and the boy ran to the carriage and helped Mrs. Primstone out. Molly and Mike were carefully peeking out of a shed.

"Elsie, I hear that you are handing out your doggies. I'd like to take one."

"What d'you need a dog for? You hate dogs."

Mrs. Primstone pursed her lips. She knew well of Elsie's ability to drive decent people mad, and decided to keep calm under any circumstances.

"Why would you think that? I never hated dogs. It was Mister Puss who couldn't stand them. But since Lord's taken him…" Mrs. Primstone's chin started to tremble, but she composed herself. "I'm missing a companion. Mister Puss had many undisputable virtues, but he always preferred to be left alone. That's why I thought that a dog might be a better choice."

"Why don't you adopt a child then? They say there are plenty of stray kids in town."

Mrs. Primstone's lips turned into a thin line.

"I can see, Elsie, that talking to you makes no sense. Oh well. I can't force you if you don't want to. I was advised to get a dog of yours, but for Pete's sake. There are plenty of dogs around. I can do quite well without your mongrels, ouch!"

One of the pups had managed to climb out of the fenced area and to crawl right up to Mrs. Primstone's shoes. Here, it discovered an interesting leather toe and started chewing on it carefully. Mrs. Primstone jerked her foot away, looked at the puppy, wanted to say something or to give it a kick, but suddenly stopped.

It should be said that Clementine did a really good job that year and chose the sire very wisely. The pups turned out to be more than just cute. The one who was looking at Mrs. Primstone now – its eyes glistening and its short tail wagging in a funny way – not only radiated general fluffiness, but could also make a most charming face, especially after having done something naughty.

Right now, it was practicing its cuteness on Mrs. Primstone, and it worked: She bent down and picked it up. The puppy kissed her in the chin.

"Oh, you sweetest cutie-pie…" she murmured quite unexpectedly trying to avoid further kissing. "Elsie, how do I make it stop?"

"Say 'No!'

"No?"

"As if you're telling it to your servant."

"No!" It came out with much more steel, and the puppy flattened its ears.

"I'll call you Mortimer," promised Mrs. Primstone.

"It's a girl. And her name should start with an 'L'," pointed out Elsie, the notable dog-breeder.

Mrs. Primstone examined the pup more carefully.

"Then you'll be Lucretia," she announced firmly at the end.

"I'm writing it down." Elsie sat down on the porch again and opened her notebook. "You owe me ten bucks."

Mrs. Primstone nearly dropped little Lucretia.

"Ten dollars! Ten dollars! Am I buying a dog or a cow?"

"That's a valuable purebred dog with unequalled hunting and guarding qualities. A stalwart companion, a true friend, and aide." Even Meredith was so impressed that he decided to take the last pup after all.

"What kind of purebred is that?"

"Of a specially bred breed. 'Elsie Brooks' Random Schnauzer.' You'll never find another one like this. It's ten bucks or nothing."

"I'm giving you a dollar, and you should be thankful."

"A dollar? Are you kidding me?"

"All right, two dollars. And only because you're my niece. By the way, you could give your auntie a dog as a present."

"You aren't my aunt! You're Ma's aunt! That means you're my…"

"Grandma," helped Geoffrey. "Or grand-aunt, to be precise."

"Right. Grandma. Once removed."

"Me? A grandma? A grand-aunt! That's ridiculous! I don't even look like a grandma!" Mrs. Primstone's dignity was rivaled only by her vanity. "I'm most certainly not going to be anyone's grandmother, and especially not yours!" Puppy Lucretia barked in loyal support.

Suddenly Meredith had a thought. It was one of those weird thoughts that, once they've come to your mind, are never going to leave you and go on tickling you until you say them aloud. Besides, he wanted to prod Auntie a bit, and the occasion seemed to be quite appropriate.

"You know, Elsie," he said pensively, but loudly. "If you married me, you'd become your own granny."

"How's that?"

"See: Geoffrey is married to Marion, right? (Mrs. Primstone got petrified.) And if we get married, then you'll become my son Geoffrey's mother – all right, a stepmother, there's no difference. And that means that if he and Marion have a baby, you'll be its granny. But on the other hand, you are Marion's kid already which means you're also Geoffrey's daughter. So, as his mum at the same time, you'd be your own granny. Isn't it so, Geoff?"

"That's correct, Dad. But you'd also become your own grandpa. And the same would go for me. And Marion would become her own grandma just like Elsie."

"Oh, ***, that's true. But that makes it even better. I'd like to see Marion's face, when she finds it out. What'd you say, Elsie?"

"I'd say, Jacob Meredith…" Elsie noted quickly that Puppy Lucretia was licking Auntie's ear and Mrs. Primstone wasn't paying her any attention; that Molly and Mike had come out of the shed and were listening with arms folded on their chests; that boys were quiet like mice; and that Geoffrey was nodding to her. "I'd say that considering such a deal, we simply have to get married – if only not to squander it. Don't you think so?"

"Looks like it, Elsie." Meredith came up closer to her. She got up and climbed up a step to be on the one level with him. The audience kept its breath. Elsie tilted her head slightly. Meredith did the same. They kept looking at each other with curiosity for some time, and then Meredith smiled and kissed her – or it was she who kissed him, there was no big difference.

"And since I'm now my own grandma," turned Elsie to Mrs. Primstone after a while, "you still owe me ten bucks!"

That's how it all was settled between those two: primarily out of spite, but at least in a decent way – according to the opinion of most of the witnesses. Mrs. Primstone needed some time to come to her senses, but at the end, Lucretia's price was reduced to four dollars not without Geoffrey's talents of persuasion, and Auntie went home surprisingly pleased. Next evening, when Marion had already returned home, Meredith paid the Brookses a visit. In a sparkling white shirt and polished boots, he officially asked Marion for her daughter's hand. It couldn't be more prim and proper than that, so she didn't raise any objections. Besides, she was so looking forward to become his mean mother-in-law, that she didn't mind being neither her own grandma, nor her own grandchild at the same time.

A less prim and proper version of the same events had no witnesses except for dogs and sheep, and thus remains unconfirmed. While still on the pasture, when the nights had already become really cold, Elsie was once freezing so much that she couldn't sleep, scared that all of her body-parts would fall off, even the ones she didn't have. Finally, she couldn't bear it anymore, and decided to crawl next to the soundly sleeping Meredith. She knew that sleeping back to back wasn't allowed anymore, so she honestly settled at his front side. A bit later that night, both thought that they were having a very fascinating dream, and when they figured out that they weren't dreaming, it was too late and too silly to rein up. "Roit," said Meredith in the morning. "Rait," echoed Elsie. "So, d'you think you'll be able to cope with me?" "Certainly," yawned Meredith. "Well, if you won't, I can always shoot you down," decided Elsie. "The question is: Will _you_ be able to cope with me?" "Who, me?" They spent some time reckoning and experimenting in coping with each other, and arrived at some pretty positive results. After some discussion, they decided not to traumatize the relatives right away, but to choose a perfect moment for it. It turned out far too proper in the end, to Elsie's taste, but she kept recalling Auntie's facial expression with great pleasure.

**MARION**

_epilogue_

In a month or two, Elsie managed to organize a double wedding to her liking: There were jugglers, the fire-eater, and the bearded Miss Smiley. There was also music, and a barbershop quartet from Wollypennie. Almost all its population came to see the celebration, but many people brought food and drinks, so we even managed not to go broke at the end.

Auntie got sentimental and even embraced Marion. Meredith tried hard to be well-mannered. He not only made peace with Father McKenzie, but he also managed to get the Reverend drunk during a conversation about religious matters, so that Father McKenzie had a fight with the cobbler at the end, which added a nice touch to the whole proceedings. Also, Meredith beat Elsie in Indian wrestling two times out of three – only because he suddenly smiled at her in the most critical moments (according to Elsie). All in the whole, he came to like the fair flair and since then never missed a single county event. The shooting gallery owner always turned pale at the sight of him and Elsie.

After the wedding, Elsie moved in with Meredith, but the dealings between the two families never stopped. Marion tried to be both excellent mother- and daughter-in-law to Meredith, and he couldn't decide which was worse. However, soon her dutiful petulance and pettiness were forgotten, because she and Meredith had to unite their forces against Elsie.

Marion bore Geoffrey twins – imagine that! – a boy and a girl. After that, she decided to call it a day and to be through with motherhood. Being a "wise woman," she had no difficulties in arranging it. The reason for her quitting was not only her age. Most of all she feared that Elsie, once she'd become a mother herself, would still prefer hunting or spending time on the pastures, leaving the children in Marion's care, so Marion'd better be ready to become a full-time grandma already. This possibility became especially evident when Elsie turned out to be expecting. She noticed it after about four months, and wouldn't have noticed it even longer, if the others hadn't brought her attention to the fact. That was when Marion and Meredith had to make a joint effort against her. She refused categorically to abandon her old habits and to follow Marion's rules. No horse-riding, no booze, not even beer, no coffee – never! Finally, Meredith threatened to send her away from the marital bedroom back to the Brookses' farm. Marion confirmed his intentions. Elsie took offence, and indeed moved out to her mother on her own accord. She came back after two sleepless nights justifying it primarily by the absence of the warm bathroom in her family home: How could she ever live without it?

Marion handed her the new-born Robin with some anxiety. Even she herself was not enchanted by his nosy snout and sulky appearance, but the moment Elsie looked into her son's coal-black eyes, her heart grew two sizes too big and she eagerly launched into the role of a doting mother.

In sixteen years, she bore Meredith seven children, and yielded to Marion's pleadings to stop only after she noticed that she was constantly mixing up their names. In her parenting, Elsie followed her mother's steps and never beat her kids. "They don't give us a reason," was Meredith's explanation. He gave it at a fair while he and his companion were watching one of his offspring: Fully dressed, it jumped after the apple right into the tub, and then, after having swum in it for a while, basked with pleasure in the sand pit. "She'll have to walk home by foot," shrugged Meredith.

The life of Meredith and Elsie went by in pleasant monotony: sheep, kids, sometimes bears, sometimes hogs, sometimes thunderstorms and tax-collectors – and surely the station which finally had been allowed to be built. But that was mostly Geoffrey's business. Meredith was just renting out his lower lots profitably, and could live quite nicely from it. But he never abandoned his sheep and cheese.

Geoffrey naturally came to be in charge of the affairs of the little place that was forming around the station. He started several businesses of his own, made investments into others' enterprises, and even took loans – which he repaid meticulously.

Peter was gradually taking over the farm. He married a nice girl from Coughpeeksie who kept peering at Elsie, and finally pronounced her a man: She remembered her from a couple of shearing competitions. Nobody could ever persuade her otherwise, and Elsie constantly refused to show her any kind of proof, making enigmatic faces instead.

John moved into the Big City where he first trained as a mechanic, and then as an engineer. He settled down there: Found a job at a plant and married a city sissy. It took him quite long to persuade her that proper living in sin was not as awful as she was taught to think, but he'd learned tenacity from Geoffrey, and so eventually everything worked out for them as well.

Lucretia brought Mrs. Primstone lots of puppies. Since Auntie couldn't part with any of them, she decided to adopt a couple of kids from an orphanage, so that the puppies had someone to play with. "Here goes your inheritance – and it was you who gave her the idea," said Meredith to Elsie. "Oh, that's fine with me. Besides, they say she's leaving half of it to the dogs anyway," she laughed in reply.

Marion was busy with the farm, the twins and the grandchildren, but, just like Geoffrey, was more and more drawn to the station, and especially to the train. Sometimes she would find a free day, take the twins and board the machine courageously. They would ride to some New-Overkerk, and take the return train in the evening – all covered with soot and awfully happy. Once they missed the return train and had to borrow horses to catch up with it – luckily, the train was still quite slow in some parts of the way. And another time, Marion missed the train, and the anxious twins had to ride home all by themselves. All in the whole, they came to terms with the train quite nicely, but Marion still had a growing urge to explore farther places.

Twenty years went by. Geoffrey's East Wollypennie was doing pretty well, and could be doing even better, if not for the stupid interferences from the state authorities: wood uprooting plans, cunning double taxations, and other state and federal harassments. Geoffrey was using his old connections, established new ones, but grumbled over the morning newspaper time and again about how he'd done it all differently if he could. "Then go and do it," said Marion suddenly. "The gubernatorial elections are in a year – run for it, win it, and do whatever you like." She laughed at her own joke, but then looked at Geoffrey and realized that there was only a tidbit of a joke in her words.

The rest is, as they put it, history. They gathered some money, Meredith and even Auntie contributed, too, but the main vehicle of Geoff's campaign was his usual charm and persistence. As well as Marion. She could never understand how she got herself into it, but remembering all of her Auntie's etiquette lessons, she conversed with lots and lots of different folks, collected signatures, pulled out promises, gave insights and desperately tried not to think about what would happen if by some miracle they'd manage to win.

But they won. Marion was hoping that another miracle would occur, and the state capital would be transferred to Wollypennie, but at the end they had to move. The train was taking her to those far-away lands after all. Beware of your wishes, she reminded herself, but then realized that there was nothing to beware, because in fact, she wasn't scared at all – just dying of curiosity.

The whole Wollypennie came to see them off. Elsie made Marion comfortable in a nice sleeping car, gave her some last admonishments, told her that if needed, she'd come to the City to knock everybody's teeth in, kissed everyone, and left quickly. Then they all were waving good-byes from the platform, and Marion tried hard to keep smiling. Elsie kept grinning madly until the train vanished from the sight, and then nuzzled into Meredith's vest and cried it all through. "Ma, even his shirt's wet already, you'd better cry into me now," Robin pulled at her sleeve – and she obediently cried through his vest, as well.

Both Marion and Geoffrey got the hang of the city quite soon, and their grown kids even more so. One gets used to the warm bathroom and other civilized niceties without even noticing. The kids were sent off to study and work, and Marion started to look around searching for any job to her liking. Geoffrey hurled himself into work at once – she was always ready to support him, but only on his request. It turned out that there were plenty of chores around that a governor never has time to deal with. Bring some order to the schools; press colleges to accept girls – her Rose would be one of the first medical college graduates; supervise the orphanages, collect money for them on regular basis and check where this money was going; reorganize public hospitals – and obstetric aid, by the way… Nobody in our state would mention the Dred Scott Decision in Marion's presence, and nobody ever made use of it. It didn't matter that Molly and Mike had successfully – albeit not without adventures – moved to Canada by that time.

At the beginning, Marion secretly thought that she would mostly have fun in the city, but it seemed like there was much more work here than on a farm. Back there, you could at least have a rest on the porch in the evening – and here you had to host or to attend receptions instead. "What a horrible waste of time!" complained Marion in her letters to Elsie, but the latter suspected that Ma was exaggerating a bit. Marion was indeed getting used to the receptions as well. First she got a bit shy meeting the Public Officials – and even the President himself! But she always managed to talk herself out of it: "What are you afraid of? Just remember how you used to give little Bobkitty a bath. Is there anything more frightening than that?" Compared with Bobkitty, any President looked like a piece of cake.

Elsie worried a bit that Geoffrey would see all those city beauties and start thinking in a wrong direction. Knowing Geoffrey, it was difficult to imagine such a scenario, but who knows, maybe that stinky city air would cloud his brains. She didn't share her concerns with Meredith – and rightly so, otherwise he'd have had a good laugh afterwards. The one and only scandal of that kind all throughout Geoffrey's career was caused by Marion herself. It wasn't her fault at all. A state senator fell madly in love with her: He sent her flowers, abandoned his wife and kids, and even jumped from a bridge in despair, but fell on a steam-boat and only sprained his ankle. Marion was shocked by the whole situation, but got the reputation of a ruthless heartbreaker. Geoffrey consoled her as well as he could, but secretly was pretty proud of her.

Marion and Geoffrey tried to visit Wollypennie every year. Elsie and her family could hardly leave their home. First, travelling with seven kids, albeit more or less grown, was like managing a troop of soldiers – with constant vigilance and roll calls. Secondly, Elsie was a tricky traveler herself. Meredith and kids were very well aware that the train was for her primarily a source of escapades, like climbing on its roof and walking all across the cars. That actually did happen once or twice, and nobody except Elsie appreciated the thrill. Thirdly, Meredith did appreciate the train from a distance, but once inside he never felt at ease. It was shaky and smoky, and besides, he disliked the idea of being transported by someone he didn't know well. Who knows what that engineer is doing in his cabin? Maybe he's playing cards with the fireman. And then there are the switchmen and flagmen – who knows how sober they are at the moment? Oh bother, you'd better take your train and shove it into ***.

He visited the capital only once – when Marion got seriously sick. For the first time in her life, she felt so bad that Geoffrey panicked and sent him and Elsie a telegram. Afterwards Marion told how the moment she saw their worried faces, she was so ashamed of herself that she got better at once. At the same time, she realized that the sickness was there for good, and was only giving her a short rest. She started getting Geoffrey accustomed to this thought, but he really believed her only at Elsie's and Meredith's departure. Marion wanted to say her goodbyes to Meredith separately – to make it final. "Jacob Meredith," she said. "I have always appreciated you as my in-law, but I do love you like both my father and my son. I want you to cope with Elsie as well as you do for as long as you can." "Marion—," he said no more – there was no need to.

When, later, Marion felt that her time had really come, Elsie came to the capital, taking her kids, and also Peter with his offspring. On the way, they picked up John in the Big City. Marion asked Elsie to stay a bit longer afterwards and to keep an eye on Geoffrey. The latter was holding on – as good as he could. He had time to get used to the inevitable, but Elsie knew that he couldn't imagine his life without her mother. Neither could she. They remembered the loss of Robin – the emptiness was still there, they just came to terms with it.

Marion seemed to be the most chipper of them all. She read aloud to her grandchildren and chatted with them all day long. She did crossword puzzles with her kids, she was finishing writing newspaper articles, and answering some letters. She received guests – and even Geoffrey could only guess how much it cost her. Only at the very end, her exhaustion became so evident, that they wanted to let her go.

After the funeral, Peter and John rode home, taking all the kids with them, but Elsie stayed as she'd promised. She honestly didn't leave Geoffrey's side, even at work, until he grumbled that he wasn't a sheep and could cope by himself. He decided not to run for the governorship anymore – his smile was lost – he would rather finish this term and come back home. He could see very well how Elsie was going crazy in this damned city. That was true, and so, after she made him swear that he wouldn't do any lunacies like jumping from a bridge and made sure that the twins will be looking after him for a while, she finally went home.

**ON A TRAIN**

"East-Wollypennie! It's East-Wolleypenney in two minutes!" the conductor called.

"And what about Meredith?" asked Milly with a trembling voice. "How did he… die?" Milly had always loved drama, preferably with parallel plot lines.

"Hm. You should know that better than I," answered the woman finally putting her knives away. Then she stood up and reached for her bag. "'Cuz I don't know nothing about it." She nodded, smiled farewell and gave Uncle Ernie a wink. "There you go. His own grandpa all right."

The men didn't have a chance to stand up at her leaving, as she had already jumped out of the car. Our window overlooked the station, and we all stuck to it without a word.

It was an early evening; the station was almost empty. She got off the train and went up to a nearby carriage and two saddled horses behind it. Michael couldn't stop himself from whistling at the sight of a young woman who was sitting on the driving-box of the carriage. She had jet-black hair and coal-black eyes and was utterly beautiful. As if hearing Michael's whistle, she turned her head and looked at him with the greatest disdain ever. Then she jumped off the carriage, took our lady's bag and basket, threw them onto the seat, gave her a hug, and returned to the box urging her horse to move.

Our lady didn't join her, but went up to the horses instead. A man who was holding the reins stepped forward to greet her. He seemed to ask her about something, she shrugged, and suddenly huddled up to him briefly. Then she took the reins from him, he gave her a lift and then jumped on his horse. She readjusted her hat and dress, turned to the train and waved to us. Her companion turned as well. His eyes were black, his hair silvery white. He gave us an inspective glance as if putting a "city slacker" stamp on each of our foreheads. Then he touched his reins – and they rode after the carriage that was already vanishing in the summer dusk.

**FIN**

_March 7 – 17 2012_

_I'm my own grandpa_ - Copyright Dwight Latham and Moe Jaffe, 1947. Based on a Mark Twain anecdote.


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